Chapter 71 Alison
ALISON
It’s funny how undramatic dying can be. I’d always thought I’d go quick: one misjudgment on my bike and a truck slamming into me, or some criminal emptying his gun into my chest. But this was like a heavy, warm blanket settling over me, coaxing me to sleep as the life drained out of me drop by drop.
My ankle and the stab wound in my back still hurt, but it felt like the pain belonged to someone else, at the other end of a long tunnel.
My head lolled: if Grushin hadn’t been holding me upright, I’d have ragdolled to the floor. But through half-shut eyes, I saw Gennadiy being forced back into the kitchen, bullets plucking at his suit jacket. Grushin’s men pushed forward to finish him. This was the end. No. Please no…
There was a bang behind us, and everyone turned.
The front door was open and sagging on its hinges. And in the doorway was a familiar, disheveled figure, his tie askew under his FBI body armor. Calahan?!
“FBI!” he yelled. And started shooting. And right behind him, shooting over his shoulder, was a woman in her sixties, her silver hair pinned up tight and a savage expression on her face. Carrie?!
Three of Grushin’s men fell immediately, and, now that they were being attacked from two sides, the rest of them panicked as they tried to return fire. Gennadiy and the others began to push forward again, towards me. “What are you doing here?” I yelled to Calahan. “I told you not to come!”
“When did I ever do as I was told?” yelled Calahan.
As more and more of his men fell, I could feel Grushin’s mood shifting from confidence to panic. He put his gun to my head and backed away, pulling me in front of him. Gennadiy ran forward and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Calahan. “It’s over, Viktor! Let her go!”
But neither of them had a clear shot, not with me hanging limply in Grushin’s arms. I tried to struggle, but the wound in my back burned and spasmed, and I cried out in pain.
Grushin opened the side door and dragged me out into the garden, then started moving towards the front of the house.
I was going to live just long enough to be his hostage and help him get away with this whole thing.